Life's Grave Ending.

The biggest paradox of life is death, in fact that is the only certainty, the only guarantee we're given when we come to this world, that you will leave. Sounds like a mean prank played by someone, you come here, you build a life, you build relationships and before you know it, you're lying in the dark waiting for yourself to decompose (burning to ashes and being eaten by fish is also a possibility). I am distressed as to how seriously I should  take the ordeal of death considering its so common that each and every one of us gets it sooner or later. I remember this play of Shakespeare in which he builds it up to the point the protagonist's love dies and without giving the audience a real chance to grieve for the loss of poor Ophelia he employs clowns as grave diggers putting in comic relief at the expense of her death. I thought hey, maybe death isn't that serious of a matter, but upon close scrutiny I found otherwise. 


I have lost people in this life and so I understand that it doesn't matter how certain death is, its still sad business and perhaps Shakespeare was mocking society for making such a joke of the situation, for they discuss something that was earlier soliloquised with utmost seriousness and now he injects dark comedy in the play. So as "all the world's a stage" I guess there are those amongst us who decrease the intensity of death, by making 'logical deductions' which to me seem most illogical, for even logic accepts the fact that to those close to the deceased an integral part of  their life is gone and it's a normal reaction to be upset and grave. Here a verse from the poetry of Khwaja Mir Dard comes to mind;

درد دل کے واسطے پیدا کیا انسان کو

ورنہ طاعت کے لیے کچھ کم نہ تھے کروبیاں

(Dard-e-dil kai wastai paida kia insaan ko

Warna ta'at kai liyay kuch kum na thay kar-o-byan)

This roughly translates to; the reason why mankind was brought to this world is to share each other's heart aches, since there are enough angels for worshipping God.

This could be referring to the philosophy that our soul being a part of God's 'Nur' (Light) longs to go back to that source and thus the life of this world is a constant heartache for the soul. It could also be talking about the expulsion of man from the Garden of Eden mentioned extensively in a lot of literary works such as in Milton's "Paradise Lost" or in Iqbal's countless poems. But not going in to the philosophy in literal terms the verse talks of man's duty to be there for one another in time of sorrow, and I cannot think of  a greater sorrow than death. 

There's a law of science which states;  what goes up must come down. And so is the case with us, we have to go back one day (unless of course for you this world is IT) so before we go let's make most of it. Now making money could be one goal in life, but I have noticed, those who worked on their people skills more than their earning skills are revered by all left behind. We lost one such man recently, my cousin, my brother and honestly a true source of knowledge and inspiration. The man had very little flaws if any and left us too soon, his departure has left a hole in a lot of people's hearts' and we are grieving, and though his absence will always be felt I have faith that he is in a better world now. 

In the Loving Memory of;

Ali Asghar Khoja

24.12.1979 - 16.03.2011

The Pieces of My Heart.

Gloom

My first post this year, I hope there are many to follow, and something worth reading too. Previously I have written out of anger and I have written out of guilt, today I write out of sorrow. With a sunken heart and swollen eyes I can't stop my fingers from shaping the words as you see them. So what is this about? Honestly, even I am not sure what it's about, but I know this much I need to get it out. Perhaps nostalgia is the strongest catalyst right now, and there is this strong sense of stagnation that breaks me up inside. 


Nostalgic am I, for I feel like I've lost so much already that the damage it has made is irreparable. I would like to think I am above it all and now its time to move on, but every time I take a stroll down memory lane it stings me to the core. The loss of innocence, loss of morality, the careless routines, the trivial pursuits, the friends, the enemies, the frenemies and things you held most dear to you at some point in life are either not so important any more, or gone to a place not known and all that is left is some electrical currents in my brain which retain all this to make me miserable when I am down. One particular thing that is lost (for what seems like)  forever, is the distinct taste of a bar of Dairy Milk. They just don't make them like that any more. My mouth waters and I can almost taste it but I can't taste it and that makes me sad. Here I must pay my respects to the human brain which can not only retain images, but sounds, tastes, smells and touch as well, that's pretty impressive, don't you think? 


Although I don't feel as sad as I did when I started writing, the pathos here is the fact that to all these memories I have given a part of my heart. And to some of them a huge one, and no matter how much I try to get on with what ever I have left (for that's my best chance of survival) it's like there is an invisible force that wants to pull all the pieces together, and at times the force from my side is so weak that I feel my incomplete heart trying to break free of the casket of this body, which creates excruciating pain and that is pain I'd have to live with. Now I don't want to sound petty and it's not about the chocolate but that was just an analogy, its more about what I feel than what I tasted,  what it invoked in me than the satisfaction it gave to my taste buds. Similarly there's a piece of my heart which I entrusted in a friend, a friend that proved to be negligent and wholly inattentive to my favours, and as much as I try to forget about............ I think I should let Wordsworth speak for me;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

That is in a way exactly how I feel right now, no matter how much I try to forget I may never get that piece of my heart back, but try I will, and succeed to a certain extend I must. Since the future seems so appealing that despite the occasional weep, I can and will be happy, everything's in my favour. The sun will come up tomorrow, the air is still fresh and my heart (however broken it may be) still beats, I don't see reason to give up. And to all those readers out there, yes its a sad reality that these little things from the past, you may never get back, but let's try and not succumb to them, we might just miss another moment pass us by in the grievances. 

This poem pretty much sums it all up;

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood 

By William Wordsworth

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it hath been of yore;--

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The Rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the Rose,

The Moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare,

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,

And while the young lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound,

To me alone there came a thought of grief:

A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong:

The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;

No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;

I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,

The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,

And all the earth is gay;

Land and sea

Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May

Doth every Beast keep holiday;--

Thou Child of Joy,

Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy

Shepherd-boy!

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make; I see

The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;

My heart is at your festival,

My head hath its coronal,

The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.

Oh evil day! if I were sullen

While Earth herself is adorning,

This sweet May-morning,

And the Children are culling

On every side,

In a thousand valleys far and wide,

Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,

And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--

I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!

--But there's a Tree, of many, one,

A single Field which I have looked upon,

Both of them speak of something that is gone:

The Pansy at my feet

Doth the same tale repeat:

Whither is fled the visionary gleam?

Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

There is more but till here serves the purpose of my writing.